


Surcingle

by blooddrool



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mutants, BDSM discussion, Dom/sub, Domestic, F/F, F/M, Multi, No Smut, about the amazing and filthy things margot wants alana to do to will, alana and margot are older, dom!alana, dom!margot, fem!dom, he is their property and he really really loves it, just talking, marble the horse, see the notes for an AU explanation because literally nothing is explained in the actual fic, sub!Will, will is like 19 or 20, zad the horse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8562859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blooddrool/pseuds/blooddrool
Summary: “He’s sweet.  It’s hard to resist.”
“As are you.  The both of you, together.  I’d like to see you bring him down tonight.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is a tiny, _tiny_ little bit of a pretty huge AU that i've been working on for a while. mutants exist in the world and they're basically like slaves - normal humans own them like pets or trophies or. something.  
>  will is a mutant. alana and margot own him and they dote on him and hurt him in equal measure. will enjoys all of this very much, i promise.
> 
> but, i mean- this just a snippet. please bear with me.

Alana loves her rides with Margot in the mornings.  
  
The estate is large enough that no ride is the same day to day — the horses don’t get bored and she doesn’t either.  In the summer months they will stick to the fields where the bugs aren’t so bad; they’ll soak in the sun and let their horses run true and straight.  In the fall and winter months they’ll make good use of the deer paths winding through the woods.  In the spring, they like to take the horses down the long, private drive and on to the public street where they’ll clip and clop and splash through what winter’s left behind.  
  
Waking this morning is a very pleasant affair.  Margot likes to wake Alana with kisses pressed from the soft place behind her ear down to her collarbone when the mood strikes her, and Alana finds it very nice indeed.  Far nicer than waking to their alarm, but not nearly as nice as watching Margot flounce around their bedroom in her boxer shorts and t-shirt, hair mussed and loose around her shoulders.  She wouldn’t be caught dead in something so boyish and rough — not by anyone but Alana and their sweet William.  
  
They move through their morning routines like koi in a pond.  Margot leaves her hair in a pony tail rather than a bun, and Alana chooses to wear her more casual breeches and jacket.  The two of them have coffee in the dining room and share a kiss on the foyer before shrugging on their heavier coats and braving the chilly morning.  
  
Today is particularly nice — for December, at least.  The estate is buried beneath more than a few layers of snow, and the sun is only just starting to rise, making everything look slightly orange and quiet.  Alana’s mood brightens further.  
  
They’re walking the path down to the stables when Margot asks, “How were your patients yesterday?  I forgot to ask.”  
  
“Banal.  I know I’ve told you about Professor Dane.  Poor woman has no idea.”  
  
Margot smiles, “Do you talk about your patients like this with everyone?”  
  
“No,” snow crunches beneath their boots and Alana’s spurs glint and shine while she walks, “You are the only person I’d ever subject to my whining.”  
  
“What did I do?”  
  
“To warrant such privilege?”  
  
“To warrant such punishment.”  
  
Now it’s Alana smiling, and she reaches over to take Margot’s hand, fitting them both into one of her coat pockets and squeezing, “They were all their usual selves — no outstanding revelations to speak of.  Not yet.  Thank you for asking.”  
  
“But there will be; you’re very good at your job.  And you’re welcome.”  
  
When they round the corner of the stables and step in from the cold, they catch William throwing the last few horses their breakfast.  The barn smells like oats and molasses, and when Will looks up at them, his smile is young and white and terribly hopeful.  Some of the less food-obsessed horses nicker at the two of them from behind their stall doors, and when Alana and Margot reach William in the aisle, Alana stretches up to kiss his forehead and Margot tugs on one of his wild curls.  
  
“How are they this morning?” Margot asks, smile playing at a corner of her mouth.  She may not love their boy the way Alana does, but she looks at him like he’s absolutely precious to her.  
  
“Just fine,” he mumbles, jaw working in silence and in sound, “Rowdy with the cold, maybe, but they’re fed now.  Zad and Marble should be about done.”  
  
He turns from them then, pushing the feed cart ahead of him to put it away, and Alana just _loves_ to watch him walk away.  Margot catches her looking, as she always does, and bumps her with her hip, and it’s just so _pleasant_ and Alana has to lean over and kiss her cheek.  
  
Everything is _pleasant_ about the two of them — with Will a step behind them in her mind’s eye.  He stretches out between them so nicely, he begs for the both of them _so nicely_.  Margot tends to treat him more like an antique piece of furniture or a treasured house pet, but he doesn’t mind, and neither does Alana.  He rather _soaks it up_ , really.  Margot ignores him more than Alana does, and so he loves her unconditionally.  Alana is fine with that as well; her wife and her boy are just as stunning together as apart, and she tells Will this very often just to see his cheeks flare up pink.  
  
He looks wonderful like this, in the morning, surrounded by dust and snorting horses and old barn wood.  It’s all terribly charming, how raw he looks.  How genuine, in his fitted coat and dark leather collar, blue eyes slightly wild, hair certainly wilder.  
  
Their mutant boy.  Yes, all theirs.  
  
————  
  
The routine continues from here, though only loosely.  
  
Alana pulls out her favorite of the horses — a tall appendix mare with a body built for endurance and strength.  She’s silvery and sleek in the sunlight, and she’s an absolute doll.  Alana wasn’t really much for horses until Margot bought her this girl, and Alana named her Marble because she’d taken Margot against the grey marble counter top in the kitchen as thanks.  
  
She ties Marble next to Zad, the leggy thoroughbred Margot dotes on endlessly, and watches as William slides into the horses’ space like he absolutely belongs there.  The animals regard him with their big eyes and huff and sigh and cock their hips the way they always do when Will is nearby.  He is so harmless when he wants to be, Alana thinks, and she steps up behind him to tangle her hands in his hair.  She can practically _hear_ Margot rolling her eyes, but Alana really cannot get enough of her boy.  
  
He’s much taller than her, but he tips his head back and slouches down a little to accommodate her, and she really loves him for it.  Her nails scrape against his scalp and he huffs a tremendous sigh, like he’s been waiting for this all morning.  Which, she thinks, is probably true.  
  
She hooks her chin over his bony shoulder and speaks right into his neck, right up against his pulse like it’s the beat she speaks to, “Did you sleep well?”  
  
He swallows, and she twines his hair around her fingers, tugging and she can _feel_ his voice in his throat when he says, “Well enough.”  
  
“Nightmares?”  
  
“Just dreams, ma’am,” and his tendency to call her that when he’s getting exactly what he wants will never cease to make her toes curl in her boots.    
  
She smiles into his skin, breath warming the cool leather of the collar.  She gives his hair one last tug before she lets him go, and pretends not to see the little snap of want in the twist of his mouth.  “Good.  You know how we prefer you well rested,” she says, turning to see that Margot is already half way through saddling her horse, “Grab Marble’s saddle and blanket will you, boy?”  
  
Will nods, and slips by her, off to the tack room with pink on his cheeks and the tip of his nose.  
  
“You’re crueler than even I am, Alana,” Margot says, standing on her toes to tighten Zad’s girth a few more notches.  She’s smiling, though, and Alana rubs firm circles into her mare’s neck.  
  
“He’s sweet.  It’s hard to resist.”  
  
“As are you.  The both of you, together.  I’d like to see you bring him down tonight.”  
  
William comes back with Alana’s tack and throws the blanket over Marble’s back.  He’s focused on what he’s doing in the way that means he knows what they’re talking about, and Alana chooses to ignore him for the moment.  
  
“With what, love?” she asks, and Margot’s eyes light up like a bonfire.  
  
She hums, stepping around her gelding and right up into Alana’s arms.  She fits there wonderfully, and doesn’t even look at William when she says, “Maybe the crop?  I can see you very clearly- would you like to hear?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Alana can see Will very, _very_ slowly cinching up Marble’s girth in her periphery, but Margot is petting at Alana’s hair and suddenly Alana can see _nothing_ but the woman in her arms.  
  
“He’ll lick at your boot heels if you ask him to, but do you think he’d squirm if you pressed a spur into his throat?  And _pushed_?  I’d like to see that _very much_ , Alana.  And the crop- or the switch, I think.  Definitely.  You love him muzzled, pretty dog that he is, but I’d _very much_ like to hear him tonight,” Margot tilts her head, “Yes?”  
  
In the time it takes Alana to swallow down the dryness in her throat, Margot spins away and snatches up her gelding.  She’s walking ( _waltzing_ ) away and Alana is still standing there, watching her with all the affection in the world, when Margot calls back over her shoulder, “We’re losing the morning, Alana, please.  Leave William to his chores.”  
  
And sweet William, when she looks at him, looks stuck halfway between dropping onto his knees right then and there and hiding from her.  It makes her want to hurt him, really, and the zing of arousal in her gut does not go unnoticed.  But her wife is leaving her behind, and Alana really does love her rides with Margot in the mornings, so she takes her mare from William’s shaking hands and rakes her fingers through his hair one last time.  
  
“Do your chores, boy,” she says, not at all unkindly, before following after her woman.  
  
If Will had a tail, Alana doesn’t know whether it would be wagging up a storm or tucked right up tight between his legs.  
  
He is beautiful, either way.


End file.
